The next day my policeman brother showed up at my apartment with a small box. Inside the box was Bay. Her eyes were still blue and covered in fleas, she was too young to be flea-dipped so I had to spray her down and wrap her in a towel. It was NOT her favorite activity. But she forgave me over time, hopping up into my lap to curl up in it and suck her thumb. Yes, you heard me, she sucked her thumb. Like many kittens separated from their mothers too soon (and my new kitten Mendy) she never lost the need to suckle.
Many people thought she was imaginary, or a ghost cat. Extremely shy she tended to disappear when strangers were in the house. She was a great judge of character - unlike her adopted brother Trey who never met a stranger he didn't like - she would only allow a rare few close enough to touch her silky fur.
|She really did think you couldn't see her|
When she went, it went relatively fast, as it had with her brother (they weren't related by blood, but by love, they tended to sleep curled up with each other). Both breathed their last in my arms, which was as it should be. They had been my companions through some of the most difficult years of my life.
|Nom is right, she's a real treat hound|
|The black mark on his ear is frostbite|
|Her favorite place to be|
So, now with Billie Jo (no picture, sorry) our indoor/outdoor cat, we have four cats, each unique, and two dogs (coonhounds), and the infamous African horned frog, Hopper, who delights in driving Bay crazy by splashing in his tank when she gets near.